


Desperate Measures

by SimplyShipping



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, post 3x19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6749854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyShipping/pseuds/SimplyShipping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitzsimmons have a discussion about risk and how it affects the other when one of them is in danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Measures

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a thing. It didn't turn out how I originally expected it to, but I might write an alternate version later taking it from Fitz's perspective instead (which is what I'd planned at first). For now, we have this angsty one shot from Jemma's POV.

Jemma stares at the computer screen, observing Lincoln as he grabs at his stomach and coughs, halfway hanging off the bed. He’s pale, and his groans become more and more hoarse with every cough. He breathes slowly, trying to pull himself together, but at the peak of his inhale, he chokes and coughs again. His eyes squeeze shut. He’s shivering now, holding his shoulders. He mutters something, but Jemma can’t make it out at the camera’s distance. She leans closer to the screen. _Daisy_. He’s saying her name. Over and over again like a prayer. 

Jemma pinches the bridge of her nose and purses her lips, all of her weight is pressing on the palm of her hand and turning her skin from red to white. “He’s getting worse.” She says, barely above a whisper.

Fitz snaps his head around to look at her. He takes both hands off of the microscope and steps toward her, his hands moving to his hips.

“He’s hanging in there.” He says. His voice is soft. But it produces a negative reaction in Jemma. 

She scowls back at him. “When did _you_ become the optimist?”

Fitz doesn’t respond. He eyes her with concern as she paces back and forth in front of the computer and chews on her bottom lip. She looks at everything except him. There’s something off, and he can sense it. Her fingers scrape at each other, not quite intertwined, but it seems like they’re fighting to be. Nothing about her is still, or calm, or at peace. 

“What’s bothering you?” Fitz furrows his brow.

Jemma finally stops, and looks at him. She looks at him like she doesn't understand. Her brow reaches for her hairline, and her eyes go wide. Her mouth hangs slightly open. Then suddenly she drops, her shoulders slump, and her eyes narrow.

“With everything going on at the moment, Fitz what do you _think_ is the matter?” She crosses her arms. She has a habit of trying to make him feel like a moron, but he knows better. There’s something she’s not elaborating on, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get it out of her. 

“Are you worried about Daisy?” Fitz digs his hands into his pocket. His gaze burns into her skin. A mix of concern, and mischief. 

Jemma’s arm flails out, gesturing to the screen, and then slaps down again on her leg. “I’m worried about her idiot boyfriend.” She walks back over to the screen and leans on the desk that holds the computer. She stares down at it again. Lincoln has fallen asleep. She watches his stomach to make sure he’s still breathing. Her own breath pauses as she waits to see his, then exhales as his stomach rises and falls. “He practically committed suicide for the sake of an experiment.”

Fitz tries to bite his tongue. He can’t help his empathy. His thoughts travel back to the empty pit in his stomach at the thought of having to let her go. A quivering “Okay” hanging from his lips after Coulson’s insisting they move forward. He had tried, in that moment, to accept what was said. He wanted to. He wished he could, but the thought of a life without her made him sick. He couldn’t think. He never wanted to think again, not without her annoying, aggravating, perfect assistance.

It didn’t matter to him if he’d died. Even the tiniest possibility of success was worth the risk if it meant maybe she’d be alive, and safe again. If he died, and she lived, that would be fine. His own life meant nothing to him. Not at that point, anyway. Not at this one either. All that mattered was the air in her lungs, and the light in her eyes. Pounding on that monolith gave him the hope he needed to follow a final lead. But he didn’t know that at the time. All he knew was if she died, he died with her. And if there was a chance she could live, he was going to find it. 

“At the risk of losing my head…” Fitz starts. He can already feel her glare digging holes in his skull. “He was desperate, Jemma. He saw a chance at saving Daisy and he took it.”

Her eyes have gone cold, her mouth hanging open wider than before. “I can’t believe you’re defending him! You’re actually justifying his actions”

“Jemma, it may have been stupid, but what he did was take a risk to save the girl he loves.”

“No, _what he did_ , was reckless and stupid. And Daisy would be furious.”

Fitz’s shoulders tense, and he puts one foot forward. “Yeah, maybe she would, but if it had worked she’d be here now.”

“But it didn’t work!”

“He didn’t know that! And it mattered more to him that it could have worked!” Fitz shouts. Jemma flinches at his volume.

“That’s the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well fine then! He’s an idiot! But I can promise you he’ll be a fool as many times as it takes to bring her home.” 

“And get himself killed in the process--”

“Yeah well I doubt he cares about that.”

Jemma doesn’t respond this time. Her eyes dart to the floor, and her tight lipped expression remains strong. 

He’s stopped looking at her too, only glancing up at the top of her head every few seconds to see if her expression has changed. He wonders if she’s caught on to the actual argument at hand, or if she thinks they’re still fighting about Lincoln. Though she’s gone quiet, and he doubts her contemplation has much to do with the actions of their friend anymore. He can’t be sure of her thoughts, but clearly there’s a deeper meaning behind her words than to question Lincoln’s choices.

After a beat, she takes in a shaky breath. Her watery eyes find his again and she does her best to keep her bottom lip from twitching.

“He should.” 

Fitz's eyes soften at the sight of her tears pooling. One of them quickly slides down her cheek, as she’s unable to keep it tucked away. She ignores it as it tickles her chin and neck. He doesn’t break eye contact, and she shifts from side to side, tugging at the cuffs of her sleeve with her fingertips. She bites at her bottom lip to keep it from shaking, but the movement causes a few more tears to escape, and she licks them away when they reach her mouth.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he states the obvious. “This isn’t about Lin--”

“No, it isn’t.” She admits, her eyes immediately darting to the floor. She reaches up to wipe at her tears.

The silence between them is heavy. Her sniveling is the only thing that interrupts it, but in between, the horrible quiet thuds and echoes in their ears like the seconds before a nuclear explosion. 

“You don’t understand.” She says quietly. He takes a step towards her, but stops himself when he sees her tears splashing onto the floor. 

She can’t seem to keep herself from letting go of her sobs at this point. He wants to pull her into his embrace, but something tells him to wait. 

“I could hardly take it when Will died in my place.” She says, trying to catch her breath after spitting out the sentence. “The guilt was… Overwhelming.”

He keeps his focus on the top of her head, until she meets him again with a look he hasn’t seen since the pod. The last look he saw before everything between them had changed.

“But you…” Her tears are unstoppable now, even as she tries to keep her voice from cracking and holds her breath so she doesn’t lose it completely. “You told me before that you’re not strong enough to live in a world that doesn’t have me in it.” It feels strange to hear his words echoed in her voice, but he swallows the thought and waits for her to continue. She grips at her sleeves again. “But did it ever occur to you that I might feel the same?” This time, she steps toward him. There’s a sort of determination in her steps, and her feet are heavy. “Time and time again I’ve watched you care so much about my survival and so little about your own, but Fitz if you--” she swallows, choking on the thought. “If you _died_ …” she takes another step. “I wouldn’t make it.”

Every word is soaked in sincerity, and he has no choice but to believe her. It honestly never did occur to him that he would mean so much to her. That his death meant anything at all. But with her tears, her words, and the pain in her eyes, there’s no deceit, she means what she says, and it sends chills to every bone in his body.

Regardless, it doesn’t change the truth. He’d do it all again if it meant she survived. 

“Jemma…” His takes the final step and closes the distance between them, reaching a hand up to brush away a strand of hair and cup her face. “I’m sorry.” His thumb stretches to wipe a tear from her cheek. She keeps her eyes locked on his. “But I can’t keep myself from risking my life if it means saving yours.” Her eyes immediately protest, more tears falling and falling. “I just can’t.” He shakes his head. “You have to live. No matter what happens to me, you have to. There’s too much the world would miss if you didn’t.” She looks down at his chest and rests a hand just above his heart. “And if it comes down to my life or yours, I will always choose you. Every time.” 

She touches her forehead to his and closes her eyes. He mumbles another apology, bringing his free hand to her waist. They stand there in silence. The part of her that’s thankful hides deep beneath the much larger shadow of anger at his stubbornness, but she knows there’s nothing she can do. And she hates how helpless it makes her feels. She hates how much he means what he says. She hates knowing that whenever the cosmos strike again, he’ll gladly throw himself in front of the meteor. But mostly she hates knowing that if the roles were reversed, if he were in danger and she had the chance to save him, she’d risk everything for him as well.


End file.
